


One For The Road

by BlondeQ



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 21:43:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6874813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlondeQ/pseuds/BlondeQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically, this is what happens when I look at promo photos and POI Noir- you get One-Shot fics. If you don't want anything spoiled for Season 5, Episode 4, don't read this!</p>
<p>It was business as usual for Team Machine. That is, until one afternoon when Root and John were running a mysterious errand on the Machine's behalf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One For The Road

**Author's Note:**

> I promise I haven't given up on that final chapter of Caged Animals. I just had a lot of feelings about the photos I saw and wanted to write and post this before the episode aired.

Root was finally beginning to feel optimistic again. The Machine was up and running and chattering in her ear, they were receiving numbers to save, and she was cautiously hopeful that they would make some headway and that there would be some clue about how to find Shaw soon. Everything had begun to feel normal. As normal as it ever could without Shaw making snarky comments, running in at the last minute to save Root’s ass when she got in over her head. It was business as usual for Team Machine.

That is, until one afternoon when Root and John were running a mysterious errand on the Machine’s behalf.

John was on the floor below Root in a building near Port Authority, making sure that their exit was clear, while Root headed to Her destination. Root hadn’t been given much information, so she didn’t know what exactly she was looking for. Didn’t know what she was supposed to be picking up. Not until a sudden flurry of movement caught her attention and there was a gun pointed in her direction.

She couldn’t believe her eyes. Standing a few yards away from her, looking significantly worse for wear and exhausted, was _Shaw_.

There was a long moment of silence while Shaw kept the gun leveled at her, grimacing, and Root waited to see what she was going to do. And then Shaw’s eyelids fluttered. It wasn’t surprise that Root could read in Shaw’s face. Instead, Root thought that she could see relief behind the guarded expression. Finally, Shaw’s arms slowly relaxed to point the gun at the ground, and her shoulders slumped, falling from their tense, high position.

Root took a hesitant step forward. Was this a trick? Were Samaritan’s people waiting just out of sight?

“Sameen,” Root whispered in disbelief. Shaw’s eyes shut, and even from a distance Root could tell that Shaw was shaking. She drew a breath like it hurt to do so. Then another. When she opened her eyes, they were shining with tears. She opened her mouth like she wanted to speak, but the word caught in her throat like she was trying not to sob, and her eyes pressed shut again.

When Shaw swayed, Root thought she was about to pass out and hurried towards her. But when Root’s hand made contact with Shaw’s upper arm, the shorter woman flinched away from her touch, eyes flying open and the gun raising to point at her again. Root pulled her hand back like she’d been burned. She wanted so much to grab hold of Shaw and kiss her and make sure that she was okay, but didn’t want to hurt her. So she stood watching Shaw shiver, those dark eyes warily fixed on Root’s. Root was dumbfounded. Heartbroken. Shaw was _scared_. Scared of _Root_.

It occurred to her that she should call John. If Shaw was here, there was no telling how far Samaritan’s people were.

She tapped her ear piece to contact John and Harold.

“I found her,” she said softly. She watched Shaw swallow hard at the sound of Root’s voice, shifting the gun to hold it against her stomach. She wasn’t actively taking aim at Root, but she was still ready to do so at any moment.

“Shaw? She’s here?” John asked, surprised.

“We’ve been down this road before, Root. This could very well be a trap,” Harold warned. His voice, always laced with stress, had amped up to one hundred, skipping straight past the use of her given name to her chosen one. Root could tell that he was standing at his desk, frozen.

“Harold, what’s the fastest way for me to get to Root?” John asked, not the least bit dissuaded by Harold’s cautious words. Root stopped listening to them. She was focused only on Shaw, who was still standing, shaking and breathing unsteadily. She looked like she’d been through the ringer.

Root didn’t know if she should touch Shaw again, but she wanted to desperately.

She resisted the urge, and they stood facing one another until Root heard footsteps behind her. Shaw raised the gun again, squaring her shoulders defensively. Root glanced back and saw John at the end of the hall, his hands raised so that his gun was pointing at the ceiling. Root spun back to look at Shaw. She was taking a step away from Root, her eyes watery and open wide, like an animal that had been backed into a corner.

“It’s alright,” John said from far behind Root. “We’re gonna keep you safe.”

Shaw had started trembling worse, but let the gun lower slightly.

“It’s okay,” Root said. She wanted to reassure Shaw, but it didn’t sound very convincing. The sound of Root’s voice made Shaw’s eyes snap back to her. Root put a hand out towards Shaw, and the exhausted woman looked at it for a long time before she clutched the gun against her stomach again and shuffled a tiny step forward. Closer, but not close enough to touch. Root could tell that Shaw was working herself up to taking another step, and waited.

A gunshot from behind Shaw made her practically leap out of her skin, spinning and raising the gun. Root drew her own gun and grabbed Shaw, trying to pull the wild-eyed woman so that she was behind Root’s body. Shaw ripped out of Root’s grasp while Root shot at the two agents at the end of the hall. Both strangers dropped, and Root turned to see that Shaw was looking panicked, turning back and forth between Reese and Root with the gun, not sure where to aim.

“We need to get out of here,” John told them both. “There are probably more of them coming.”

The look that he gave Shaw was the most pained expression Root thought she’d ever seen on his face, and Root could only imagine that she looked equally distressed. Shaw wasn’t moving, and neither Root nor John wanted to make her upset, so they kept their distance. John looked beyond Shaw to Root like he wasn’t totally sure what to do next.

“Sameen…” Root said softly. Shaw turned back towards her with a wary look in her eye. But after a long moment, Shaw swallowed, nodded, and started towards John, sticking close to the wall. Root saw the bandage taped behind one of Shaw’s ears, and she couldn’t be sure, but it looked like Shaw was favoring her left leg a little.

The trip to safety was long, and not without a few episodes when some noise startled Shaw and she was set off shaking again. The streets were the worst, where everyone walked too close to them and Root thought Shaw might start to hyperventilate. The hardest was when an older man with grey hair pushed past them and Shaw snapped, unthinkingly drawing her gun on him. Root reached out to stop her, and Shaw gave her a rabid glare.

Root couldn’t take her eyes off of the shorter woman.

She was so _terrified_. So unlike the woman that had grabbed Root and kissed her before jumping to sacrifice herself without a second thought. The woman who dismissed Root’s advances out of hand when they were in a firefight but stuck around to keep up the banter once their work was done. Who flirted with a number all day knowing full-well that Root was listening in, then later turned up to be ‘decontaminated’, grinning up at Root when the taller woman said it would take all night.

Finally, they were at one of the safe houses. Harold had insisted they not bring her back to the subway in case they were being followed, but Root knew that he also wasn’t sure if they would be able to trust her since she’d been in Samaritan’s grasp for so long.

Finch looked alarmed when John and Root led the way into the place, Shaw trailing anxiously behind. She didn’t speak— she hadn’t spoken a single word since they found her— but Bear didn’t need to hear her voice to know that she was back. Harold had him by his collar, but the dog whined, ears back, and stood up on his hind legs, straining until Finch lost his grip. Bear raced at Shaw, and John tried to stop him but the dog had already lunged up at her, licking at her face frantically.

Shaw almost lost her balance under his weight before John had hauled the dog off of her.

She looked lost and scared, with dark circles under her eyes, and Root wasn’t sure if she was just dirty or if there were bruises dappling her skin.

“I told you to get her _medical attention_ , John,” Harold said. Reese looked over at him, challenging him to keep up the scolding tone. “We’re lucky that Dr. Tillman was available. She’s on her way here.”

Root watched Shaw longingly while the dark-haired woman stayed standing near the door until the doctor showed up. When the woman entered and Finch started talking to her around Shaw, Sameen got antsy, clutching the gun tighter against her stomach when the doctor looked her way.

Dr. Tillman kept on trying to cajole Shaw into letting herself be examined. She wasn’t being unkind, but Root could tell that she wasn’t going to get anywhere. The doctor was treating Shaw like she was incapable of understanding or making logical decisions (which wasn’t that far off base at the moment) but was getting impatient with trying to wait Shaw out, edging closer like she was preparing to hold her down if she needed to. Root could see that Shaw was quickly approaching the point at which she once would have socked the woman in the jaw. She wasn’t sure that this version of Shaw would stop there, and was just about to get up and tell the doctor to back off when John came to stand between Shaw and the doctor.

“Think you could take it easy?” John asked the woman, his voice dark. Root had never felt a greater sense of kinship with him. He turned to Shaw and looked down at her. “She’s just here to help. Then you can get some rest.”

Shaw looked at him with her jaw set firmly, but when she made eye contact with Root her eyebrows drew together like she was confused. She looked back to the doctor and slowly nodded. She let the doctor get on with it, but refused to let go of the gun throughout the whole of the exam, her eyes tracking every movement Dr. Tillman made. She still wouldn’t speak, just stared the doctor down when asked what had happened to her, why she had a surgical wound behind her ear, where she hurt. Shaw wouldn’t answer.

And then it was over. Shaw was given a towel and sent to take a shower, and they could hear the click of the bathroom lock behind her. As soon as the water turned on, Root was claiming first watch. John asked her to let him know when she wanted him to come take over, and Harold stayed quiet, like he still wasn’t sure that they should trust Shaw. Then the doctor, Reese, and Finch all left, and Root was alone in the living room for a while.

Shaw stayed in the bathroom for a long time after the water turned off, and Root knew Shaw well enough to know that she was probably trying to get some sleep in the room where she felt most secure— the lock on the bathroom door meant that she had a layer of safety. So she wasn’t concerned, and she sat down on the couch, facing the door of the safe house.

John dropped off some clothes outside of the door of the safe house, but didn’t try to come inside the apartment in case it spooked Shaw.

Finally, Root heard the click of a door opening and could feel eyes on her back. She turned towards the bedroom door. Shaw was leaning against the doorframe. Her hair was dry, and she had the gun in one hand, the grungy clothes just as disheveled as before. She still looked wiped out, but maybe slightly less now than earlier.

Shaw wouldn’t maintain eye contact, her eyes shifting around the room like she was casually admiring the furniture, although Root knew that she was taking stock of all available exit strategies, trying to see if there was anyone else still around.

“The bed’s all yours,” Root said, gesturing to the bedroom. “There’s a lock on the bedroom door, and John brought some clothes for you.”

 

She pointed to the neatly folded stack of clothing on the end table.

Shaw didn’t reply, but her eyes did find Root’s face while she was speaking.

“I’ll be out here if you need anything,” Root continued, gesturing to the couch that she was sitting on.

But Shaw just kept looking at her, then away and behind herself, into the bedroom. She looked back to Root with a deliberate question on her face, head still tilting back towards the bed.

She didn’t look quite so shaky anymore. That was something. And Root was pretty sure that Shaw was extending an invitation. From anyone else, it would have been an insane proposition. But not so much from Shaw.

Root stood up, and Shaw didn’t stop her, but she looked tense. A statue of a casual pose, shoulder pressed into the wooden doorframe. Root took another slow, cautious step.

Finally, Shaw was only an arms length away, shaking a little, her eyes bloodshot and wet with tears, but she wasn’t looking at Root. Root put out her hand, wanting to touch her. Shaw hesitantly raised her gun and looked up into Root’s face. Root thought that she might be about to get shot in the chest, but instead Shaw looked at Root’s hand and then held the gun out to her, placing it in Root’s palm.

Root took the weapon. Put it down on the closest table, then turned back to Shaw, who had given up her security blanket. She had stepped back into the bedroom, and was standing with her hands on her hips now, like a puppet of the woman that Root had last seen months ago. Her gaze stayed on Root steadily as the taller woman approached again.

When she didn’t jump or back away, Root slowly raised her hand and reached out until she was touching Shaw’s cheek. Shaw’s skin was feverishly hot, and at the contact, Shaw swallowed hard, blinked, and looked away to some blank spot on the ground. But then she leaned towards Root slightly. Root raised her other hand to Shaw’s face, lightly brushing her finger tips over the healing memory of a scrape on her cheekbone, and the dark-haired woman’s eyes shut, shifting more of her weight in Root’s direction, hands still firmly planted on her hips. Root wrapped one arm around Shaw gently, and Shaw sank into her. The shivering in Shaw’s body subsided as Root hugged them together closer. Root could almost imagine that Shaw was okay.

Shaw took a measured breath, like she was trying to maintain control, and Root felt hands on her waist, wrapping around her body until Shaw’s palms were pressed into Root’s spine.

They stayed that way for a long time, holding onto one another in silence, until Shaw lifted her head and looked up at Root with resolve. Root’s eyebrows raised fraction, and then Shaw was kissing her.

Shaw had never been shy about expressing what she liked and disliked. What she wanted. While she hadn’t ever let things get past banter and innuendo, Root knew that that was a function of Shaw not wanting to deal with Root’s feelings afterwards, not any lack of attraction. It had always been pretty obvious to Root that Shaw had a thing for her.

So Root wasn’t surprised that they were kissing now, if she was honest. Shaw had obviously experienced some trauma at Samaritan’s hands, and clearly had some recovering to do, but she still had the blunted emotional responses of an axis-two personality disorder. If ever there was a person who sought comfort by getting into bed with someone, it wasn’t exactly shocking that it would be Shaw.

What _was_ unexpected was how gentle Shaw was. Root had spent many long nights reliving their first kiss. The urgent, unforgiving crush of Sameen’s lips against hers. The hands that were so tight on her upper arms that it was almost painful. The force with which Shaw shoved her backwards. Shaw shooting her handgun towards Samaritan agents. The elevator’s metal gate biting into Root’s fingers. Shaw shot in the stomach. Shaw crumpling like a rag doll. Shaw gone.

Now, Shaw was all soft lips and warm mouth. Hands on Root’s hips, breezing her jacket open. The fabric of Root’s shirt bunching under the heels of Shaw’s over-heated hands.

Shaw broke the kiss, backing up a little, and it hit Root hard how insane and unfair it was to kiss a woman who had been missing for months and hadn’t _spoken_ yet. But Root had barely had time to feel guilty and start formulating an apology in her mind before she realized that Shaw was looking up at her with those sad, tired eyes and reaching out to curl her fingers inside the waistband of Root’s pants. Shaw stepped backwards, and the corners of her mouth twitched upwards.

They practically fell into bed together, Shaw dragging Root up to the pillows, pinning her against the mattress with strong hands. Root’s jacket was dropped over the side of the bed, followed by her shirt, and then Shaw’s hand was working to unzip the fly of Root’s pants. Root forced Shaw to slow down, removing the shorter woman’s shirt deliberately, kissing her indulgently and drifting her hands down Shaw’s abdomen. Shaw sat back, and Root’s stomach churned when she saw a bruise the size of a tennis ball on Shaw’s left hip, partially hidden under her pants. Shaw didn’t seem to notice, impatiently reaching for the button of Root’s jeans again. Root was still absorbing the impact of the sight of the bruise, and was still processing this information when Shaw used her foot to kick Root’s pants off the end of the bed.

Root felt self-conscious when Sameen paused, looking over her appraisingly, until Shaw actually _smiled_ a little. Shaw looked almost like her old self when she took a moment to let her eyes move over Root’s body, lying on her back in her underwear and bra. Like Sameen was trying to decide where she wanted to start. Root reached down towards Shaw, wanting to take off Sameen’s pants so that they were on even footing, and the motion seemed to spur Shaw to make a decision. She ran her hands over Root’s bra, bending to kiss her chest.

When Shaw eventually began to move south, Root refused to let Sameen’s hand inside her underwear before Shaw’s pants were removed too. Shaw humphed an annoyed laugh and struggled out of her jeans, clumsily trying to keep on top of Root while she did it.

Root wasn’t surprised when Shaw didn’t feel the need to have their mouths constantly connected, but liked the way that Shaw panted against her cheek in hot little puffs of air when their hands moved in sync and Root’s fingers curled just so. Root felt that she should have expected the moment when Shaw was getting close, bearing down hard on Root’s hand, her breathing labored, and instead of throwing herself over the edge into oblivion, Shaw pulled back. Root too had been close to an orgasm, and didn’t want to stop when Shaw’s fingers slipped out of her, wrapping around Root’s wrist to keep her from continuing. Root didn’t understand at first. Wondered if Shaw was having second thoughts.

Sameen’s eyes were dark, made to look darker by the circles under them, and she was smiling when they kissed, tugging Root’s lip into her mouth. She reached under Root to unhook her bra, then damp fingers pinched one of Root’s newly bare nipples. She wasn’t ending things, like Root was afraid of, she was just teasing Root, making sure that this lasted as long as Shaw wanted it to. To call Sameen _determined_ was the understatement of the century. She took her time kissing behind Root’s ear, down her neck, hands light and soothing, easing Root back down from her entire body wound tight, ready for release. Root tried to laugh and it sounded strained. She bit the inside of her cheek and licked her lips. Her mouth had gone dry from breathing open-mouthed, and she focused on swallowing hard, willing herself to calm down just so that Shaw would see that she’d gotten her way. It was impossible to relax when Shaw’s teeth were dragging across Root’s throat, and Shaw’s hips were still tilting rhythmically against Root, her thigh pressed between Root’s legs.

No, Shaw definitely wasn’t calling it quits. This was exactly where Shaw wanted to be, it seemed. It was only when Root had managed to even out her breathing and almost completely stopped rising to meet Shaw’s pelvis that Sameen kissed Root again briefly and then slipped down her body, dragging soaked underwear down Root’s legs and kissing the inside of Root’s thigh.

Root had dreamed about this moment one hundred times, but no dream could ever compare to looking down and seeing Sameen’s pouty smirk and darker than dark eyes looking back at her. Cool hair tickling Root’s thighs that framed Shaw’s body. Sameen’s mouth connecting with Root, fingers slipping into her. It had taken Shaw being shot and kidnapped for them to get here, and Root knew how horrible it was that she felt like it might have been worth it. But Sameen’s deft tongue was so purposeful. So perfectly in tune with Root’s needs that Root could never have imagined this better.

Root tried to let Sameen take her time, but she’d been waiting for so long, and she was just so relieved that Shaw was back. She cried out softly as she came, hands in fists in the bedsheets, and Sameen just kept on going. Root thought she was going to go blind, falling like Alice down the rabbit hole, arching into the hand that snaked up to her breast, grinding into the strong fingers penetrating her and Shaw’s electric tongue, and Shaw was still working Root over, keeping Root dialed to ten. Sensory overload.

When Shaw finally slowed, Root’s eyes refocused on the woman wiping her chin with the back of her hand with a look of immense satisfaction on her face. She looked like the old Shaw again. Root could have cried from relief.

Shaw crawled back up her body, tipping Root’s head to the side and brushing her fingers over a tender spot where Shaw had bit her. It struck Root as almost funny that the woman with a fist-sized bruise on her side was concerned about something so small.

Root rolled Shaw onto her back, watching a brief moment of hesitation pass over Shaw’s face before it was replaced by a little smug smile. She was still guarded. Root knew better than to tell her that everything was okay. She just kissed Sameen, tasting herself in the woman’s mouth, and sat back to undress Shaw fully.

That was when she saw Shaw’s knees. They were both badly scraped up, and the scabs on one had torn open so that it was actively bleeding. On her left side, mottled purple-red bruises decorated the outside of Shaw’s leg from her knee up to where Root had seen the first bruise on her hip. Gingerly, Root touched near the bleeding wound. It was shallow, as if Shaw had been fighting on her knees and scrambling over a rough surface, but that didn’t make it any less painful to look at. Shaw must have fought tooth and nail to get away.

Sameen lifted her leg. Saw that it was bleeding. Her only reaction was to pull Root up towards her, kissing her. Root knew that it was a distraction, a request that she not worry about it because it wasn’t a big deal, but Root tucked the visual of the wound away. She wouldn’t ask about it at this exact moment, but she fully intended to bring it up later.

Impatient, Shaw untangled them enough to pull off her underwear on her own and grabbed Root’s hip, dragging them together again so that she could press her thigh up between Root’s legs. Root abandoned all thoughts of Shaw’s bruises for the time being and made her own way down Shaw’s body, lips soft on Sameen’s hard stomach, dotted with scars from years of firefights and hand to hand combat.

And once again, Root was thinking about all of the dreams she’d ever had about the woman whose bruised body she was holding. Root had always dreamed about Shaw as smooth-skinned and perfect, but the reality of the ex-assassin’s body was all healed-over gunshot wounds and the signs of too many near-death experiences. And that reality, despite being heartbreaking, was much better than the soft-edged, daydream version of Sameen.

Root liked how sharp Shaw tasted. Loved how agonizingly hot her velvet insides were against Root’s finger tips. Loved that Shaw rolled her own nipple between her fingers, then let Root take over when Root raised her free hand up.

Loved that, eventually, Shaw was shaking, but not from fear as she had been when they found her. The muscles in her thighs were twitching, her body contracting and fluttering on Root’s fingers, her hands trembling as she pulled Root’s face in closer against her, fingers curling in Root’s hair. Root looked up Shaw’s body hazily to her face, but could only see Shaw’s chin pointing up to the ceiling, her head thrown back in ecstasy. When it finally dropped forward again, they made eye contact and Shaw’s hips immediately jerked unconsciously with another little wave of an orgasm. Shaw released Root’s hair and brushed it back from her face, licking at her lips. Root turned to kiss the jumping muscles in Shaw’s thigh, and watched Sameen’s shoulders lift from the mattress, her head tilting the same direction as Root’s like she was mirroring her actions.

Root wiped her face on the sheets and moved back up the bed. She knew better than to curl up against Shaw, and lay down beside her, shoulder to shoulder. Shaw stayed still for a while, all splayed legs and limp arms, and then Root realized that she should get up. Let Shaw rest by herself. She sat up, looking for her clothes, and watched Shaw turn towards her, looking a little nonplussed.

Root smiled down at her gently, and Shaw must have realized what Root was doing because she reached out, took Root’s forearm, and tugged her back down. When Root stayed shoulder to shoulder with her, trying to respect Shaw’s need for space, Sameen huffed an annoyed sigh and rolled away from Root. She looked back, reached behind herself for Root’s hand, and pulled again until Root turned to spoon against Shaw’s back. Shaw let go of Root’s hand, satisfied that she’d gotten the message that it was okay for her to stay, and yawned.

It was surprising how quickly Shaw fell asleep given how on edge she’d been a few hours ago, but Root knew that the shorter woman was completely exhausted and had no idea how long she’d been awake. Besides, this was probably the only time Shaw would let Root cuddle with her, so Root decided to make the most of him, burying her face in Sameen’s hair.

——————————

Root woke up because Shaw was twitching like a dog dreaming about the hunt. But when she made a strangled, frightened noise, Root realized that Sameen was probably not the predator in this scenario. Root shook Shaw’s shoulder from behind, and it didn’t take much for Sameen to lurch awake, flinging her arm back to elbow Root violently.

“It’s me,” Root said, catching an elbow to her ribs. It was surprisingly strong considering Sameen had just been asleep. And Shaw was already calming herself down, rolling in Root’s arms to look at her through the fading light in the bedroom.

“It was just a dream,” Root told her. Shaw looked sad, then nodded. Root felt her ribcage, rubbing the sore spot.

“I’m not staying,” Shaw said. Her voice was hoarse, like she’d been yelling until her vocal chords were shredded.

“What?” Root asked. She thought she must have misunderstood, and the confusion kept her from panicking right away.

“They’re going to be after me, and when they catch me…” Shaw paused, licking her bottom lip and then tucking it between her teeth, eyes narrowing. She sighed. “I’d be lucky if they killed me.”

Root was catching up to the conversation now, and shook her head.

“But they want me alive. For now, at least. They’re going to try to use me to get to you, and you have to promise me that you won’t come looking for me anymore. No matter what you think you see or hear.” Shaw’s voice was gaining strength, some of the hoarseness clearing. Root hoped that meant that it was as much from disuse as it was from screaming. “I’ll try to keep away from them for as long as possible, but—”

“No, you can’t leave. We’ll keep you safe,” Root told her.

“No you won’t,” Shaw said, like the conversation was exhausting. “Samaritan is _everywhere_. It makes Control’s operations look amateur. I can’t hide forever.”

“What did they do to you?” Root asked, wishing that she didn’t sound so much like she was on the verge of tears. Shaw didn’t reply.

“I’m going to find Greer, and I’m going to kill him,” Root told her.

“You can’t,” Shaw replied.

Root exhaled a painful laugh.

“You’re not the only one who can’t stay hidden forever. As soon as he comes out of whatever hole he’s in, we’ll know. And I’m going to make him pay for whatever it is that he did to you.”

Shaw’s eyes fixed on Root’s mouth, then flitted to her hand, watching as she gently rubbed the pad of her thumb against Root’s collar bone.

“You can’t kill him…” Shaw said, her words measured, then finally looked back to Root’s eyes. “‘Cause I already did.”

Root couldn’t think of anything to say to that. Now that Shaw was speaking, it was Root’s turn to be speechless.

“Listen to me, Root: you and John and Harold have to find a way to stop them. And as long as you’re looking for me, you won’t be focusing on helping the Machine,” Shaw said, impassive. “So you have to stop.”

“No,” Root said, indignant.

“I don’t know what they put in my head, but if they can track me, I can’t stay here. I shouldn’t have stayed this long. And none of you should come back to this safe house,” Shaw said, giving orders.

“Don’t leave, Sameen,” Root pleaded. “I just got you back.”

Shaw pursed her lips.

“We are not having this conversation,” Shaw said, her voice weak but her expression stern, rejecting the assertion that Root ‘had’ Shaw. As if they were a unit. A pair of socks that had been separated, and now the lost one had been found under the dryer. She started to get up, and Root could see varying shades of purple, blue, green, yellow, and red in the bruises on her bare back, different stages of the healing process. It looked awful and painful, and Root couldn’t resist reaching out to touch one of the angrier red spots, willing the kidney-bean shaped mark to disappear.

“Please,” Root said softly. Shaw paused.

“Maybe…” Shaw started, looking back at Root, then hesitated. Like she wasn’t sure she really wanted to say whatever had popped into her mind. She shook her head and sneered at herself, but continued. “Maybe someday, when this is over… if we’re both still alive… Maybe the Machine will find me, and we can talk about it.”

“Please stay,” Root said, refusing to accept Shaw’s words because it wasn’t enough. Shaw turned away again and got out of bed, her naked body strong but covered in the appalling souvenirs from her time spent away. Root pulled the sheet around her chest, saw the dried blood from Shaw’s knee beside her, and sat up.

“What did they do to you? What’s got you so scared?” Root asked angrily. Shaw didn’t answer. Root hated that Shaw didn’t scoff and pretend to be brave. Who was this person? What the hell had they done to Shaw?

Shaw wouldn’t look at her anymore, and headed to the living room, limping a little. Root could see through the doorway that she was getting dressed in the clothes that John had brought, gingerly tugging the new pants on over her banged up knees. Root dressed as well, faster than Shaw, following into the living room, and grabbed onto her arm. Shaw ripped away from her grasp and turned on her.

Shaw had the gun again, aimed at Root, and her expression was guarded.

“Don’t follow me,” Shaw said forcefully. Then she was gone. 

Later, Harold had talked John onto his side of the debate, convinced that the whole thing had been reverse psychology. A way to keep them invested in looking for Shaw so that they were easier to lure into traps.

But Root knew better. She believed that someday she would see Shaw again. That in Shaw’s own strange way, their first time sleeping together was a way of finding the resolve to do what she thought was right. Because they both knew that they’d been intrigued by each other since the very first day they met, but Shaw would never have let things get so real if she thought that it would make things complicated. This was just an updated version of the same thing she’d done all those months ago when she hit the button to override the elevator: using physical intimacy as a way to stop Root in her tracks. A way to remind them both that there was something worth fighting for. And it was a kind of parting gift, in case they didn’t find each other at the end of the war. One good memory to remember one another by. One for the road.

She had to keep believing that. If Root didn’t believe those things— if Harold was right— then she wouldn’t have anything to be hopeful about. If Shaw was manipulating them all and didn’t care about them, then what was the point of anything? What was the point of saving the world if it meant living without the one person she’d ever cared about?

The Machine spoke in Root’s ear, and she slowly nodded, blinking away tears as she listened to Her instructions. She picked up her jacket and slid it on.

“Need some back-up?” John asked. Root knew John felt sorry for her, and didn’t appreciate it. He’d already given up on Shaw and was ready to move on, but Root was hoping that if she did her job well enough, the Machine would repay the favor with information on Shaw’s whereabouts when the time came.

“No,” she said, barely looking at him. “I’ll do it alone.”


End file.
